


Five Times When Steve Rogers Was Called an Abomination (And One Time When Tony Called Him a God)

by petting_a_bumblebee



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Avengers Family (in making), Capsicle (Marvel), Comic Book Violence, First Meetings, Human/Vampire Relationship, Humor, Identity Porn, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Nick Fury is not so bad when you get used to him, Secret Identity, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, The Avengers Are Good Bros, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony bashing except not really, Vampire Steve Rogers, Vampires, meeting the team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:13:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24454999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petting_a_bumblebee/pseuds/petting_a_bumblebee
Summary: Project Rebirth failed. The super soldier serum didn’t work, but it didn’t have to, because Captain America happens to be a vampire. Natasha, Thor, Tony, and Bruce have all his or her unique way to approach the best kept secret of the nation and make friends with Steve Rogers.A new world, team, and love is waiting if Steve is able to convince Director Fury he can keep his fangs where they belong, which means off from other people’s jugulars. Tony wouldn’t mind the teeth or the rest of Cap, but he also has a few dirty secrets of his own to cover up.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 35
Kudos: 108





	1. Fury

The door to the observation deck opened, and there he stood. Not a hair out of place, in his Tom Ford suit, because the occasion wasn’t worth of his hundred thousand bucks Alexander Amosu Vanquish II Bespoke. Or so he still thought. If he had known what Fury’s call had been about, he would have brought his fifty-two year old single malt Scotch with him. A hundred thousand again, but who was counting. Maybe he would have given Fury a sip too. Just because Fury had called him and told him the news.

Tony Stark, CEO of Stark International. Or a spoiling pus in his ass, as Director Fury of the SHIELD called the man. Anyway, there he was, fresh as a fortysomething daisy and yapping how Fury’s call had disturbed his beauty sleep. Not that he would have needed any. The man was a drunkard or if one wanted to get clinical, he had owned serious substance abuse problems his whole adult life, but in spite of his lifestyle, he was still pretty. Oh God, how he was rakish, rich, and genius and knowing it too well himself. His good fortune didn’t make him humble and grateful, as said, a spoiling pus in an ass, which this time happened to be Fury’s.

“Jesus, Stark. It’s 2 PM. You sounded like you were suffocating under your usual pile of starlets.”

“Oh, you were worried about little old me”, Tony said, giving him one of his infamous playboy smiles, which never endeared his case to Fury. “I was indeed suffocating in something. He was...”

“Alright”, Fury interrupted. “I called you here, because… Stark, really? As I said it is 2 PM.”

The SHIELD bases were lacking imported whiskeys, so Tony had taken his flask with him.

“ _Y_ _ou are late, you are early._ Make up your mind, Fury”, he mumbled and took a long sip. “What did you want to show me?”

Fury touched the panel in front of them. “Doctor Banner, bring forward your exhibit number one.”

There was a guy in green lab scrubs giving them thumbs up. Doctor Bruce Banner and the people with him were wearing surgical gloves and masks, hair covers, all the works. Their display didn’t make impression to Stark.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Move on with it”, he mumbled, making circling movement with his left hand in a feeble effort to conceal the tremors. Last night there had been more coke and booze than was usual, and even if he was still pretty, rich, and genius, he wasn’t twenty years old anymore.

Fury knew what was coming, so he concentrated on looking at Stark’s face as Doctor took something from the medical trolley and lifted it over his head. It was a large, round object which looked like an over-sized salad bowl, if somebody was tacky enough to paint bottom of the bowl with red and white circles with a star in the middle.

“Is that… is this a joke? Fury, you can’t be joking. You have no sense of humor.”

For a few seconds Tony stood there like a lost little boy, alone in the woods. “You… did you found the body?”

“Don’t get greedy, Stark.”

Tony couldn’t turn his gaze from the sight. “It… it is real, isn’t it? Not just some custom made junk a cosplayer has thrown in the sea?”

“It is vibranium. Just like you daddy made it.”

Tony lurched. Fury took his elbow when it first seemed he would fall down. “Oh my god!” he mumbled. “Oh my god! Fury, we have to go there. We have to… I have to study it. This would be...”

“Hold your horses, Stark. If you are going to be like that, you are not able to handle the whole package.”

“The… the package. Do you mean..?”

“About your other question. Yes, we found the body too. He was still grasping that shield in his hand like it would be able to save his hide, the poor bastard.”

That made Stark shut his mouth. They descended the stairs and came at the other door. There were two armed agents, but they saluted and stepped aside when Fury and Stark entered the front room of the lab, where they put on the same gear Doctor Banner and his crew were wearing.

“You keep up with me”, Fury warned when they were ready to go. “You don’t touch anything, and if Doctor Banner says he needs us to leave, you do it without any hassle. You don’t want to make that guy nervous.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Oh God! My father would be so pissed off! He searched him for decades.”

“You are one vindictive little bastard”, Fury sighed, watching as a gleeful smile widened Tony’s lips. “Why not to give your old man some slack.”

“My adoptive father, you mean. First he acquired me to be a stand-in for his beloved but sick biological son and then he replaced me with a ghost of the one perfect son the poor Howard never was able to get despite of all his wealth and earthly goods. This it too hilarious. Hi there, brother superior. Look at him, Fury! He doesn’t even look dead. It is like he is sleeping. Thank God my father is not alive. He would cream him pants and embarrass us all acting like a little fan girl.”

They had stopped near the metal table on which the male body was lying. It was wearing a faded uniform pants, combat boots, and a ruined leather jacket. Under those mundane items, though, there was that famous star chested uniform top Howard had designed for him. Bullet proof, or at least as much as the genius inventor from the 40s could manage. The letter A could still be seen on a bluish colored helmet, made of metal and that strange material Howard had used for the chest piece.

Talking about fan girls. Tony Stark would have only needed pom poms.

“The body is indeed well-preserved”, Fury mumbled from inside his surgical mask. “I bet Doctor Banner is the one doing creaming at the thought to study… Yes, Tony?”

Tony had been poking Fury’s side for a while now. “We could… yes, we don’t have to make clones, like they have done with those prehistorical animals. If he is in such a good condition, they can have his sperm samples.”

“What? Are you both turning into mad scientists? Doctor Banner, what is it? Don’t say you are considering...”

“If the super soldier serum has altered his DNA, it is possible that his offspring would have the same abilities. An interesting but ethically complex question what Mr. Stark is raising here. But I was not thinking about that. Curtis, could you help me, please? Touch his artery, like you would search a pulse. What do you feel?”

The man in a green grubs did as Banner asked. Fury had a little premonition. This was Tuesday. Tuesdays were like Mondays, bad hair days for sure, they just could pretend longer everything was alright.

“Banner, what is it? Do we have a problem?”

One look at Curtis’s amazed and fearful face told him that was the case.

“Doctor Banner… I… I am not sure. If this would be a patient, I mean, a living patient, I would say we have a faint heartbeat. It is probably just...”

As usual, Fury’s gut had been right. This _was_ that kind of Tuesday. Curtis let out a brief scream and jumped backward so fast he bumped with Doctor Banner. The body on the metal table had taken an audible breath which ended with a coughing fit. Then it sat up and puked out seawater and few brownish slumps.

Alright, Fury said to himself. It was Tuesday. Captain America spitting a severed finger out of his mouth? It was inconvenient, but it wasn’t a visit from Galactus, was it?

“Super soldier serum”, Doctor Banner was mumbling. “I suspected it could preserve his cells on some level, but like this… this is incredible.”

Incredible was one way to describe it. For those other ways Fury had his gun in his hand. It would took only a fraction of second to shoot at that thing through his grubs. Captain didn’t move from the table, but sat his head hanging, only occasional coughing fits making his body stutter. That would give Fury some time to evacuate the room.

“Banner, back off”, Fury said quietly. “Stark, you too. Stark, for Christ sake! Move that ass! Stop gushing over him! He just puked out human body parts. Nice and slow... Jesus! Why didn’t anybody think to restrain him?”

“Sir, he was a corpse”, one of the technicians explained. “We didn’t…”

“Never mind. Continue through the door. And alarm more guards. Nobody enters without my permission.”

“Fury”, Banner was saying. “I think he can hear you. Hi there”, Banner greeted. Before Fury had time to react, the idiot was besides the table again. “You gave us quite a fright. Captain Rogers? Is that you?”

Tech people and Stark were now out of the room. Fury didn’t let his guard down but he relaxed a bit for he was now only one left who would get hurt if something happened. The thing lifted its head and stared for a moment right at Fury. Its brows wrinkled in confusion. Then its gaze dropped downwards to the gun pointing at its direction.

“Banner, keep off from the firing range. I don’t want to stress our jolly green by shooting you. What is wrong with the eyes? That must be the worst hangover face ever.”

“There seems to be some damage in his retina. Oh my. I hope it is not affecting his sight.”

And there was Fury, hoping just opposite. Captain let out a raspy sound, which could be laughter.

“Nice set-up you Krauts have. Speaking English, even a negro officer. You really think this is enough to assure me I am home among friendlies?”

Now that Captain was talking they saw something was very wrong with his teeth also. An animalistic fear shot along Fury’s spine. He should open his damn mouth and start assuring this Twilight Zone version of their national icon he was in the good old USA. They were all friends here, and not like… prey?

“You don’t like my eyes, Nazi filth? Huh? I bet you like my teeth even less.”

 _Oh crap_ , Fury had time to think. Where were those sparkling vampires who idled their days away pining over little high school girls? Why did Fury always get only that other kind?

“Bruce, try to stay calm!” he shouted when the thing moved faster than any normal human being should. Fury emptied his gun to its torso and head, but it was still able to sink its fangs into Banner’s throat. Bruce’s scream of fright and pain halted with a wet gurgling sound, but then Fury was already running.

“Seal the doors!” he shouted to his comm when he was out of the room. “Gas its ass! Now!” He elbowed himself through agents milling at the door. Another door and a few steps, and he was back in the observation deck where Stark had been watching the scene unravel. Stark was pale under his tan. Maybe it was because of all the blood or the flask which lay empty on the floor.

“Fury, did Captain kill Bruce? The gas...”

“Bruce can’t die, you idiot. He managed a gamma bomb explosion. Big Green will take care of him.”

“You hope. It’s only a theory. It is never tested.”

It was tested right now.

One of Fury’s bullets had penetrated the cheekbone. They watched as it popped out and was yanked off all the way. Then the thing raised its inhuman gaze to the deck window and stared right at them even if Stark had turned the glass into those one-way mirrors the interrogation rooms favored.

“Yuck! A total turn off. I have never liked when Wolverine does his thing. Super bones and healing factor, check! But… the gas, Fury. It is designed for Hulk, for fuck’s sake! It may kill Captain.”

The irises which were usually blue had turned into the worst hangover red ever. What had been white in those boy next door eyes, was now black. A heated glow among cinder, ready to sparkle into a roaring fire.

Fury wondered those teeth. How they were so white, when the lower portion of its face was smudged with blood. Bruce’s blood.

It was a true live horror show, and Fury swore it would all end right there, right now. He didn’t care about the shield or the pompous letter in that helmet. The nation had already mourned its fallen hero. People didn’t need to mourn anything they didn’t know even existed.

“But… Why the hell is this happening? What is this?”

“Stark, open your fucking eyes! A big fucking disappointment, that is the only way to describe this situation! A PR catastrophe in making! My most horrid headache of the month! Took your pick. Captain America puked out a human damn finger! Dear Lord, I had his poster on my wall until I joined Army. I don’t care if he won the war for us by his two bare fists. He is not coming out of that room any way but pieces… Yes, finally! Agent Sanders, alarm Jonathan Anderson.” Anderson was the chief mage of the SHIELD magic division. “Tell him to get his ass to the labs asap and bring the garlic. We have a situation.”

Fury could say that again. The observatory window was about nine feet from the floor but Captain America had jumped on the overhand like a person could ascend on the first step of the stairs. He was pummeling the glass, which cracked under his ministration.

“Fuck! Why is the gas not working? He will soon be all over us.”

Fury didn’t answer. If the glass broke that thing with Steve Rogers’s face would be the last of their worries. The pink mist filling the room would kill them both before those teeth would be anywhere near their jugulars.

The glass let out another pitiful squeak, growing weaker. The thing gave them a triumphant smirk and raised its fists again. Fury was expecting the worst, but in the middle of the motion Captain fell sideways and slumped on the floor.

“Twenty-eight seconds! He resisted Hulk gas twenty-eight seconds! He is a super soldier fucking supreme!”

Stark was standing there his phone in his hand, taking time. Fury was still shaking in his boots. He didn’t appreciate the gleeful tone in Stark’s voice. “Team, wait my signal. Our guest has to be moved to our Hulk safe luxury suite before he wakes up.”

The ventilators were already sucking the gas out of the room. When the panel on the wall blinked from red to green, Fury gave his men an order to proceed.

“What about Bruce?” Stark wondered, when agents with their heavy duty gas masks hurried into the room.

“Hulk will heal him. If not, he is beyond our help. That thing ripped his throat right open.”

“Fury, that thing is Captain America. You can’t keep dismissing him.”

There were times Fury wanted to grab the labels of Tony’s expensive suit and shake some sense into the man. “Didn’t you hear what I said? Your vintage poster boy just killed your teammate. Not to mention he tried to kill us. Jesus, you have been only fifteen minutes without booze, your brains can’t stop working already.”

“My brain is fine. I even remember the Avengers Initiative is not officially started, so technically Bruce and I are not teammates. Close acquaintances? Yes. But...”

“Stark, shut up.”

They walked in an awkward silence down the corridor until their trail ended in front of the room-sized glass jar. Technically the walls of the cell weren’t glass, but unbelievable strong alien substance which would take a nuclear strike without a scratch, but Fury always called it glass, because its major ingredient was unpronounceable with human vocal chords. And it was see-through if they wanted it to be.

Their prisoner was still sleeping and it pissed Fury off for some reason. Maybe the thing was pretending.

“You took your time.”

That was to a thirtysomething man in a SHIELD standard black uniform and a crimson cloak which covered the upper half of his face. Fury didn’t like his eyes anyway, for they were too all-knowing for his taste. As usual a mystical amulet of some ancient deity hung around Anderson’s neck. Its glowing dance of lights and shadows always gave Fury a feeling of upcoming epilepsy attack. He and Stark had one thing in common: both of them hated magic.

“I sensed the situation was well in your control, Director. And I am afraid that in this case I can’t be much of assistance. I didn’t hurry, because I can’t offer any magical means to solve your problem. I don’t sense any dark magic in work here, nor I feel a magical presence of any kind.”

That announcement left Fury flabbergasted. “But how can it be? He is a fucking vampire! Anderson, if you can’t feel it, maybe it just means that thing is good at concealing itself.”

There it was again. The patient smile a parent will give to a child talking silly.

“Director, there is no concealing the magical rot of living dead. There should be a clear evil presence. Even hair should stand in your head and blood curl in your veins, if we are talking about a vampire strong enough to pull off a feat Captain performed in the lab. But there is nothing. Whatever he is, he is not a vampire in a way our dimension has used to deal with those dead husks and their malignant spirits. Magically I could as well be looking at an average human being. His aura looks quite nice, actually. A perfect balance on his every hue. His reds for example: so grounded, strong-willed, energetic, sexual, and passionate. But also sensitive, artistic...”

Fury had known that headache was coming.

“Alright!” he interrupted Anderson’s musings. “No evil magic. I got it. No magic of any kind. If you say so. How about a werewolf? That is only a matter of lycantrophic genes, isn’t it?”

“Yes, and not my field of expertise. But shouldn’t he be furrier? Not just teeth?”

They all turned to stare at the being. Its helmet had been removed so there was plenty of that wheat-golden hair to see, but otherwise it showed fair skin, no even stubble on its face. No extra hair anywhere.

“There is this other dead giveaway about vampires”, Anderson continued. “If he were a vampire trapped in the ice for seven decades, his magic storage would be very low. He should be starving, if using human concepts is allowed in this case. His first and only priority would be to gorge himself with his victim’s Qi energy, and that didn’t happen.”

The thing had killed Bruce, but not because of meal. Now when Fury had calmed down and considered the situation, he admitted Captain had attacked like a soldier thinking he was surrounded by his enemies.

“How much do you really know about Project Rebirth?” Stark was saying. “We should compare notes. There could be some clues in my father’s archive. Maybe all they did for Rogers was to give him an unbelievable healing factor and custom made tiger teeth.”

Fury tried to imagine Captain America pushing a tail back into his pants after morning dump. That tiger tail, he meant. God, he had started to sound like Stark.

“Hey, Fury. Are we idiots, or what! Why didn’t we think the most obvious solution first? What if Rogers is a mutant? There was no gene test for it back in the 40s.”

It was actually a sensible explanation. He wasn’t going to admit his acceptance to Stark, so it was convenient they were interrupted by a loud and annoyed roar which always forewent smashing of things. Usually something expensive.

Fury tapped his comm and ordered more gas into the lab. When Banner woke up the second time, he should have a helluva headache, but he would be a human again.


	2. Natasha

There was once a girl with red hair. A girl who danced fiercely like a flame and gracefully like a swan. Like any other girl, she thought the sky wasn’t her limit, it was her stepping stone and she could be anything in this big wide world.

She couldn’t, of course. Before the little swan even noticed, her wings were clipped to stubble, making sure she never tried to reach the sky again. Never tried to escape her jailers.

They made her a spy and an assassin, and then they sent her far from her home. Over the sea, all the way to the hostile shores. To the land of lies.

She was ordered to mingle and make friends. Later, she spied and betrayed those friends. She killed many innocent people. Many, many years she did this. So many, many times.

Then she was given an order which would turn her life upside down. She should expose and kill an American superhero, Iron Man.

That didn’t work out so well. How else would she have ended up here? In the glass cell with a monster from the bed time stories her _babushka_ had told her.

“ _Net, pozhaluysta, ne!”_

That gray jumpsuit was too big for her fragile frame. Or maybe it was too big to make her look that way. Her pretty red hair, only stubble left. Fresh bruise on her left cheek, bleeding.

What a pitiful sight. Could it soften the monster’s black heart?

“ _Kto-nibud', pomogite mne! Upýr'!”_

Her back was against the door. Her legs had given away from fright and she was sitting on the floor, pushing her hands forward, a laughable attempt to keep away a man who just the other day had pummeled himself halfway through triple reinforced safety window.

The monster spoke for the first time. His voice was raspy, like after a long speech, when there was no water bottle beside the microphone.

“I don’t understand you, little one. Is that Russian? Or Ukraine? For us foreigners it is hard to know the difference.”

The monster came closer. When it was about three yards from her, it halted, taking a deep breath, smelling the air around her. Then it let out a sneeze. Her mouth opened with surprise to hear such a mundane, humane thing.

“You… you speak English?” she managed after some long minutes, when the monster, the man didn’t seem to come any closer. “ _Bozhe moy!_ They laughed and said they will feed me to an _u_ _pýr_ … vampire. But you…”

The man didn’t say anything. Not a thing even if she left enough time for him to react.

“I have a w-wound. They made me bleed, said it would… but you are not going to... A-Aren’t you?”

She started to cry. She took in big, ugly gulps of air, which made her body stutter. The man, the monster sat still in front of her and waited for her to calm down on her own.

“W-What is wrong with your eyes?” she asked, after a while. A regular shatter box, this one. “Are you hurt?”

A derisive snort was a reward for her consideration.

“Now you have red ones yourself. You cried. I am just hungry.”

That confession made her cry again.

“Oh for Pete’s sake”, the man mumbled. “Have you read Dante?”

“D-Dante. Who is that?”

“He was an Italian poet. In one of his long poems there is this story about a man and his sons. How an enemy locked them in the tower. Let them starve until the father tasted the flesh of his own children.”

“T-that is horrible.”

“Yes, but we are not in that stage yet. That we start to eat each others, I mean. If I promise you can gobble me up first, would that be better?”

She hiccuped and tried to smile. “It is still a horrible, horrible thought.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that then.”

“Let’s… what is that?”

The man looked smug now. Pretending he didn’t know what she was talking about.

“That slump in your chest”, she said impatiently, for a second forgetting her scare. “It moved.”

“Oh him? He woke up because of this ruckus.”

The man opened his jumpsuit and took something small and pinkish from his chest. It was a tiny piglet.

“How did it end up there?” she wondered.

“You want to pet him?”

She jerked backwards. The movement seemed involuntary.

“I meant I can give him to you if you want to pet him. I though to ask first because you don’t look like a farmer’s daughter. More like a fancy lady. Moody little missy.”

“What! How dare you! I am not...”

How soon she forgot to whom she was talking to. A moody little missy.

“Alright, my father was a conductor”, she mumbled. “No trains! We lived in Saint Petersburg when… No farmers, no. _I_ _ntelligentsiya_. Sorry.”

She reached with her hands and the man gave her the piglet. It wriggled, didn’t like the way they moved it through the air. When it was safe in her lap, it calmed down again.

“It is so cute!”

“He certainly is.”

She shook her head in an admonishing way. “Why on earth do you make it sound like it is a bad thing?”

“Because they always do this. They give me young and innocent things. Want to make me look like a rabid animal. Tease the bull with a red sheet. Hurt the circus lion with a whip. I am not going to dance to them.”

She looked at him with sad eyes. “What is your name, little missy?”

“Natalia Alianovna Romanova.”

“Steven Grant Rogers”, the man nodded as a greeting. “Well, Natalia... May I call you Natalia?

“Yes, but I like Natasha better. Can I call you Steven?”

“Steve will do better. Well, Natasha. Have you been here often?”

She let out a brief giggle. “My first time.”

“Why are you here?”

She put her head down and looked now sadder than ever. “I…”

“You don’t have to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable. You remind me of someone.”

She rewarded his kindness with a teary little smile. “Someone nice, I hope.”

“I don’t know if he was. Probably. He was in a bad place. We all were, but he was just a boy. A young man. Too young to make decisions of life and death.”

The piglet turned in her lap. She stroked its stomach and it let out a satisfied whine.

“During those weeks of capture, I fell for it. My friends were more cautious, but I have always been too readily to believe in the goodness of people. I fell for his act, took him in to plot our escape, not realizing that earnest young man was a mole. Nazis threatened his sister, forced him to spy on us. They used our plan as an excuse to annihilate a village nearby. Then they killed all their prisoners except me. That boy and his sister were among the executed.”

“That was horrible.” She cried again and squeezed the piglet too hard, making it wiggle in discomfort. “Why are you telling me only horrible stories, Steve?”

He didn’t come any closer. He was still sitting on the floor, in the same place. But he felt closer nevertheless, and her back was pushed tightly against the door. She couldn’t back off an inch, even if she had wanted to.

“New smells, fresh and clear”, he said, looking nowhere particular. “Like all the people I have met here in this place. Strange smells, like you were not regular persons at all, but like those androids I read from the pulp novels. You missy, you smell rich, fancy food, nose-tickling chemicals, gun power, and metal you hide in your clothes. A used, familiar knife no guard would have left on you because they would have beaten and shamed your flesh long after they had found your weapon.”

She went death still. Nothing happened, though, except the man continued. An accusatory tone of his voice made her flinch inside: “You are not like that poor boy. You are one of them. _Kriegerfrau_.”

“I am called Black Widow”, she said, dropping the act. “We knew Hydra had you as a prisoner once, but we didn’t know about the executions. I am sorry. I told my superiors this was a bad idea.”

She put the piglet down on the floor, from where it looked at them confused. Why did its entertainment center stop working?

“What do you want to eat?” she asked, noticing how he looked at her, as if wondering if this was a new way of torture.

“Not little pigs”, he said finally. “Porridge would do.”

“Are you a vegetarian?”

“Hitler is. I’ll eat anything. Sometimes literally.”

She was up at the same moment he was on her. Her knife pushed against the skin over his collarbone, his organic twin blades at the same place on her neck.

“When you played to me your little act, you shook in fright and your heart fluttered”, he said, his words making his teeth scrape her skin. “You sweat and tears streamed from your eyes. But now, now in this place, seconds from the death, your heart is calm like a frozen lake. Do you even know anymore what is true and what is not?”

“Sometimes”, she admitted. The teeth were pulled back then, retreated inside his gums.

He fell back until he was able to touch the rear wall. Then he turned around and pushed his forehead against the glass, put his hands behind his back; a standard stance of prisoners everywhere. He indeed had been a captive before.

“Please, moody missy. Before I go Dante. Something to eat.”

It was only a whisper. Not exactly a threat, only stating the fact. The father who was so hungry he gorged on the flesh of his offspring.

She didn’t do shivers. Or hysterics, or other silly emotions if they weren’t any use for her. So when she sighed, it was like a novel length confession.

She stepped outside. The porridge and a glass of milk arrived a few minutes after that.

“What do you think he is? A hedgehog or an elf?”

She didn’t turn around, but continued watching his eating through the monitor screen. It was a slow process. A half spoon and a sip of milk, then he put the food down. Pushed it away. That seemed not to be enough, so he stepped from the table to the other side of the cell. He had repeated the process again and again. She had been looking at him almost three hours.

“Your gift seems to be badly received”, Fury continued. “It will take a few days we can try that synthetic blood Bruce is testing.”

No useless feelings. But sometimes. Why not to scream, when people around you seemed to be stupid on purpose.

“He was among those American soldiers who reached the first Nazi concentration camps”, she explained through her gritted teeth. “He must have seen how his comrades in arms gave their chocolate rations to the prisoners. Do you know what happens when you eat too much or too fast after months of starvation? You die, that was what happened to some of those children. They died, Fury, on the arms of their saviors who had become their killers instead.”

Fury found nothing to say, so she continued her observations. Her sensible scream:

“He may not look like it, but he is starving. He thought we were torturing him with the lack of food.”

“We gave him a pig”, Fury protested, looking offended. “Bruce said he would probably want to hunt his meal.”

She gave him a stink eye.


	3. Thor

It took a few days, but then the glass cell and Steve had another visitor. This was an odd one. A tall man, muscular and blond, in a chain mail shirt and winged helmet. He had a hammer, but that was too big and fancy-looking to be a tool of a smith.

“What are you?” his visitor mused. “You are not a mutant. Whatever they mean by that. They made a test with your blood and it came back as negative. Whatever that means. I don’t understand most of the things they do; this magic they call science is so different from mine. So, Warrior Monster! Are you a stranger in this realm like me? Did you came here from outer space or some unholy dimension?”

The man didn’t look like an alien. He looked very human, but if he claimed he was not, maybe that made them the same. Thor Odinson, the God of Thunder, the man had introduced himself to Steve.

“Steven Grant Rogers”, he said politely and couldn’t not to add a silly moniker of his own. _Son of Cain._ That was what the Council of Elders always called them.

He heard how they talked in that little device the thunder god had in his ear. They were buzzing like busy bees.

“They bid me to ask you slyly are we talking about biblical Cain. I assume from their tones they don’t like much about the man.”

The buzzing in the device increased when his friends admonished the dim-witted giant. Or maybe it was only an act again, to make his visitor look harmless and put Steve at ease.

“No, I bet they don’t”, Steve admitted. “They are right about it though. He was a bad man. Murdered his own brother.”

“Why was that?”

“Jealousy. The younger brother had their father’s favor.”

That made giant’s visage darken. “It is often so, I am afraid”, he sighed, a brief hurt dimming his shining eyes. “My brother hates me for that same reason. But a man should not be remembered because of the deeds or failures of his kin. It is his own deeds which should matter.”

Steve had to snort at that. “Well, we will see about it. The history is written by the winners. That can lead to unexpected results. The good will or heart doesn’t matter, even bravery is not enough, if you don’t have power to back it off.”

Was that it? Did they want to use Steve as their weapon? Maybe that was why this sudden change of tone.

“Hear, hear! No truer words, Warrior Monster! You are indeed a man of my very own heart. They say you are a vampire. That species is unfamiliar to me so I consulted my godly cousin, Hercules, who has roamed this realm longer than I am. He told me about a demoness, Lamia, who has the head and torso of a woman and the lower body of a snake. He told me also about empusai, the malicious daughters of Hecate, the goddess of witchcraft, who walk the earth night times, seducing and devouring shepherds in the fields.”

“I am son of Cain”, he repeated. He didn’t like the direction this conversation was going. “Those other things. They are just myths. They don’t exist.”

“My cousin fought those file women just a month ago. They can change forms, you know, be anything a man desires.”

 _Alright_ , Steve thought, when the blond giant squinted his eyes and bent forward to look at him, as if trying to reveal his deception. _I am_ _in_ _the_ _prison cell with an armed lunatic who_ _thinks_ _himself a viking god. Who_ _keeps_ _a mythical ancient demigod as his cousin._ Who asked Steve if he somehow was a dame in disguise.

Steve was born and raised on the wrong side of the tracks. He knew well the thoughts of men who asked other men if they were nancy. How they were cheering themselves towards violence with those talks.

The giant seemed not too eager to follow his line of thinking. There was that buzz of talk and then:

“Now they want me to slyly ask you again where did you come from. If it was the other dimension, or from outer space. Maybe your ancestors have stranded themselves here in ancient times? Are your people the force behind Stonehenge? The reason the pyramids exist?”

Thor shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t usually understand what Brother Green talks about. Did his words mean anything to you, Warrior Monster?”

“Yes. I am from Brooklyn.”

The answer earned him a satisfied slap on his back. “Planet Brooklyn! Did you hear Brother Green, it is now settled! Be silent, no more of this! Where is the feast I ordered for us? Better talk when mead butters our tongues. You can drink and eat, I hope? Widow Spider said you had difficulties with your food some days ago.”

That said the giant focused on poking his ear. They were screaming at him quite loud this time.

“I still don’t understand why they are fussing like old women”, Thor huffed. “I am from Asgard myself, and these Midgard habits escape me sometimes. But come, Warrior Monster! Come, eat and drink with Thor the God of Thunder, son of great Odin All-Father and grandson of Borr, son of Buri! Come and we share the tales of our victories.”

Why not? It was not that his dance card had been full recently.

Steve sat at the table as Thor went to the door. It opened and a trolley was pushed inside. Thor brought it forward and they emptied its load. It was indeed a feast, there was so much of everything. Steve’s stomach let out an angry growl and his mouth started to water. They had brought him porridge when he had asked and then broth and some bread. Yesterday he had eaten meat with gravy and smashed potatoes. Steve sniffed the taste. There was bovine meat again, and some kind of fowl, probably chicken.

He took an apple. It was a real beauty, that one. Bright red, with that bubbling fruity smell which made his nose dance with happiness.

“It is pretty, but not an apple worth of Iðunn, the Goddess of Youth, the keeper of the golden apples of Asgard. Here! Take more of this fine wine, Warrior Monster! I like a man who can drink his share.”

 _He is_ _a_ _lunatic_ , Steve thought, taking a glass. _He is mad as a hatter,_ _but at least he is_ _an_ _entertaining_ _one_ _._ They drink and ate, and even if Steve stayed quiet, that was not the way of Thor. He told him about his battles with blue-skinned frost giants, who lived in the world made of ice, and his adventures in the fiery lands of Muspelheim, and when he had enough to drink he started to talk about his family. There was his step-brother, Loki, the God of Lies. His father Odin, to whom his both sons had been disappointments. His team of warriors back home, his friends, before his father banished him to Midgard, to prove his worthiness. Ha! How to find his own worthy in this place, when most of these Midgardians didn’t know honor if it sat on their faces. Double ha! Joke was on Thor, son of Odin.

Normal alcohol had no effect on Steve. This was something else. Asgardian fire wine, Thor had called it. Steve felt a light alarm when he realized he too was starting to be God’s honest drunk. Thor proved to be the type of man who cried into his pint. He was also a man who took any opportunity to boast about his prowess.

“They told me how you bested the Incredible Brother Green with your slyness and power! That you ripped his throat right open, his blood landing on your armor like those flowers maidens throw over the warriors heading to the battle. Very fine deed! How I would have wanted to see the sight with my own eyes, your pleasant and fair form changed, and you fighting fierce as Fenris, the great devourer of the worlds!”

The pint hit the table and Thor stood up. “Let’s go, Warrior Monster! Let’s show them how the real warriors fight. You can use all your might and those unique weapons you possess. Unlike these Midgardians, Thor, son of Odin, has no water in his veins.”

For some reason, Steve also thought it was a splendid idea. Damn that fire wine!

“Great! My comrades in arms, bring forward the shield of Captain! NO! Bring it forward! I said all the weapons. Do you want to make Thor, son of Odin, a liar? Do you want to make him your enemy?”

The royal third person did the trick. Or maybe those bees in Thor’s ear were bored or just wanted to see what Steve was capable of because the shield was soon delivered to the room by the same method they had gotten the food. It was strange to feel its weigh in his hands again, but there was no time for nostalgia. His host had taken a battle stance. Even the air around the man felt to electrify, and for a moment Steve wondered could he really command the lightning with his will. A moment was indeed all Steve got. There was a mighty battle roar and a shout for the glory of Asgard. Steve hardly had any time to raise his shield to protect himself when the hammer hit him with the power which could level buildings. And it would, if the glass had been only glass and not alien substance which didn’t yield under their efforts.

He could honestly say nothing had hit him so hard before. Not even a full blast from the tank. Without his shield he would have been only a stain on the floor. It was now obvious Thor was not a human as Steve had thought. Maybe all what he had said was true, and he was really a god.

The hammer! Steve realized during his brief blasphemy. That had to be it! It must be one of the _Wunderwaffe_ the foul leader had promised to his troops.

Thor wasn’t the only one who could hit a man. Steve was fast, he was persistent, and Thor was even more drunk than him. Steve hit with his shield to his feet again and again and made him stagger. Thor was down, losing his grip from the hammer, a moment Steve had waited for. He grabbed the handle of the mighty weapon, but for his astonishment Thor had started laughing.

“Oh, now you mean to lift Mjolnir, Warrior Monster? Hear me first! Only those worthy can lift my hammer and use it with a power of thunder. The bravest of my warrior companions can’t move it, so what hope do you have?”

Thor’s words had only made Steve to tighten his grip. The hammer was heavy, but not so heavy he would have difficulties to move it like that drunken idiot had stated.

“Red Skull!” he shouted lifting his prize high over his head. “Why do you still send your underlings against me? Why do you still test me? You know what I can do! You can sent down the whole pantheon of your false gods, I will fight them all! I will never give up! Do you hear me, you Nazi filth! I don’t care if you and your lot have run over the whole world! Freedom and democracy will rise again! People will rise against you and your foul ideas! If you think Sarah Rogers raised quitters then you better think again!”

His little speech darkened the false god’s visage. A sore loser that one.

“Enough!” Thor shouted, standing up and reaching with his hand. “Mjolnir, hear your true master! Return to me!”

The hammer moved in Steve’s fist. The thing yanked forward, tearing him from his feet. He was too stubborn to let go, so he was dragged across the floor towards Thor and his waiting hand.

“Odin’s beard”, Thor mumbled. “Brother Monster, please release Mjolnir. I think my comrades in arms are laughing at us in their magic device.”

They were doing that, alright, and they were arguing loudly, Steve could separate the words. _He lifted Thor’s magic_ _hammer! Oh_ _G_ _od, he lifted it!_ _Maybe we should…_ _Screw Fury! We have lied to him long enough… Thor! T_ _ell him_ _his side_ _won_ _the war!_ _Tell him German_ _y_ _lost! Nazis are no more! Tell him!_

Steve let go. For a moment he was so confused, scared, and full of hope, he only lay on the floor and breathed. It couldn’t be. He must have heard wrong. A plot. It had to be. He had bested their champion and now they tried to confuse him.

“Brother Monster, I don’t understand what that means”, Thor said, when Steve peppered him with the questions. “I don’t understand your agitation. There is always a war going on. I have fought in hundreds of wars during hundreds of years in all the worlds of nine realms. One is no different from the other. Only the honor matters. We fight with honor and skill to avoid the bony grip of Hela, Loki’s grim daughter, Mistress of the Underworld. After we die, we go Valhalla instead. Here. Sit! Take more mead!”

Thor’s grand gesture was interrupted when they realized the fight hadn’t left any unbroken furniture.

“Send in the cleaning wenches! And more food and drink! The night is still young and there are many tales which are not yet told!”


	4. Tony

The next morning something strange happened. More strange than flying magic hammers and having a visit from a viking god, perhaps.

Their tussle had devastated the room but the rubble was removed like Thor had asked and Steve got a new bed, a table, and two chair. Steve was lying on his bed. Maybe he had a hangover, maybe not, but he was not prone to imagine things, so it had to be real. The wall across from his bed had became alive, and he didn’t mean like it had made itself a human form like Pinocchio. No, it was more like in a movie theater.

Steve sat up. The screen was not as big as in theaters, but it didn’t have to be. It was right there, a few yards from him showing him moving pictures and talk and text in a giddy whirlwind which settled down into a title of the film he was soon going to see.

_History of the World: Second World War 1939-1945_

Lots of maps, soldiers, airplanes, and people talking. Great offensives Steve had participated, but hadn’t understood in their whole meaning. Then finally, there were surrendering German soldiers. The Soviet flag flew over the _Reichstag_ building in Berlin, and it could have been better only if it had been their stars and stripes. He watched with a grim satisfaction as the great German cities lay in ruins after Allied bombings. Steve felt no sympathy for those wretched people. You reap what you sow. There it was again, the main reason of his cold anger, the concentration camps, skeletal bodies, dead women and children, and for what, for the glory of the Fatherland? Nice looking glory, built on the bones of the children of Abraham.

There was film material about spontaneous victory celebration following the surrender of Japan. There were lots of it, like his jailers thought he had a right to participate in the jubilee, even if it was already done. Damn right, he had! He had done his part. He felt something swell in his heart. It was not pride, because he was not that kind of fool. He had seen what the war was alike, and he didn’t live its rhythm in his blood like that self-claimed god of thunder. The feeling in his chest was only relief.

Over. It was finally over. Could it really be true?

If it was all just one big lie, it was so skillfully made it was like magic. He shouted in surprise when the film suddenly gained color. The face behind the calm male voice was reveled. The narrator was a middle aged man, who looked like a college professor.

He talked about things like the Berlin wall, NATO, and Warsaw Pact. A new global war was in making as the former allies started to arrange the world to their images. Steve’s found his fangs were out and he had bitten his lower lip. He hadn’t lost control so badly in years, but his fear was luckily in vain, this might be a new war, but it was a cold one.

Except in Korea. In Vietnam. And in some other places the narrator mentioned but Steve couldn’t see in his mind. Either of the new superpowers didn’t start anything final, however, because both of them had now _Wunderwaffe_ like the one the Nazis had dreamed of and the USA had used in two cities in Japan. Thousands and thousands of bombs had been made after the first ones, and those men in high places, perhaps they were only biting their time when they planned to break the world.

How did people manage this constant fear of dying? How would everything cease to exist without more reason than their leaders whim and the push of the button?

Steve didn’t understand. It was mostly a sleepless night, and when he finally fell asleep he dreamed about drowning. He was sinking inside the airplane to the bottom of the Arctic Sea, with a bomb load which was meant to the east coast of the USA, a useless sacrifice in a chain of his other useless deeds. It would all disappear in a vast blast of light and mushroom clouds.

He woke up his head hurting. These people went to sleep, rose from their beds again the next morning. Somehow he had done it, somehow they just did it. Kissed their spouses and children, said their goodbyes, and used the day in labor. The mankind went on, not remembering the bomb but occasionally. Steve went on, because the wall did it for him.

Years were hours, decades were days. There were too many faces and names to remember the day after.

The wall grew silent only at nights and to give him bathroom breaks and time to eat. He wondered how long it would go until it halted.

 _201_ _9_.

Steve blinked. He had realized the time passing, but in his greed to see more wonders and horrors he hadn’t stopped to think what it all meant. Not to the world, but to him, personally. Now it all rushed into his mind. Seven decades had passed. His whole world had gone just like that. Not destroyed by the bomb, but forgotten in the stream of time.

This was terrible. This was worse than the fear of the bomb, which he could get used to, but this, this was too much.

Steve started to cry.

“Uh… hello?”

He sniffed his nose empty, but there was no new smell in the air. Nobody had come to his cell. He raised his gaze to the wall. There was the movie again, but the narrator was this time a dark haired, handsome man. He even had the cute little beard Steve usually saw only in the historical adventure movies.

“Alright, what was it? Was it the Kardashians? I said to Bruce we should leave them out, but he insisted. Oh well.”

The man on the wall was upset about his crying? Wait a minute! How could film people see what he was doing?

“Oh, sorry. This is not a movie like before, but a telephone call with a picture.”

It was 2019 in the future. Of course people talked to each others with the help of their walls.

“I am fine.”

“Sure you are.”

Steve didn’t like that teasing smile and annoyingly handsome face. The combination had always made him horny. “And if I wasn’t? Why would I want any consolation from one of the people who keeps me as a prisoner?”

The man seemed first taken aback, but it didn’t last long. That smile just jerked a bit more the corner of his mouth, showing Steve a flash of those perfect teeth.

“You are not exactly a prisoner here, more like in quarantine. That is just one thing I would like to talk with you about. You knew my father.”

That got Steve’s attention. “Who is that?”

“Howard Stark.”

Stark? The inventor who made Steve his shield? That was his son?

“Can we talk? Face to face?”

“Alright.”

It didn’t take long after that. The door opened, and there was the pretty fella from the wall. His smell was familiar too, and first Steve thought it was because this was Howard’s son. But it wasn’t that. They didn’t smell anything alike.

“Where you there when I woke up?”

“Yes, I was. Did your miracle nose find that out?”

There was something in the man which screamed danger, loud and clear. Not the danger Thor and his brawl had represented, but more subtle, more sophisticated calamity was ahead of him. Steve was well tuned to the precarious of his situation, and it made him prickly. “You all know my senses are enhanced. No need to be surprised by it. What is it you wanted to talk about?”

“Straight to the point, I like that. Alright. As long I am here, we have private time. The cameras are showing in the control room a computer reduced piece where we talk something else altogether. Anyway, I have been reading my dad’s old archives. I want to make the same deal he had with you. You see, I am influential man”, the little prick continued, the teasing, smug expression never leaving his face. “I can easily get you out of here. Fury and the SHIELD don’t know what to do with you, and they would be thrilled me taking this problem out of their clumsy, governmental hands. I am not only that influential, I am rich too, actually a billionaire, so money won’t be a problem. I can give you wealth over your imagination. Anything you want.”

Except any explanation what this was about. Because it couldn’t be…

Of course it had to be about _that_.

Steve couldn’t help it. He started laughing. “Yes, your father’s deal with me”, he uttered after damming up most of his mirth. “And your esteemed, dealing with the devil father is still alive and well, I presume. Enjoying his eternal life, isn’t he?”

“No, he is not. He died in a car accident. My ma too.”

That made him sober up. “I am sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks, but it was many years ago. About this other thing. Do we have a deal?”

“No.”

“No?” Stark quirked his eyebrow, giving him a knowing smile. “It took you last time little less than a princess and half the kingdom to agree.”

Yes, that. Not his proudest moment. But Howard wouldn’t have given him that magnificent shield otherwise, and there had been a battle coming. Their superiors had been hushed about future plans, but they all knew their next fight would be a big and bad one. And it was, the one they called Omaha beach now. So Steve had lied. Or not exactly lied, but went on with Howard’s silliness. And Howard. With him it was always good food, tasty drinks, and he looking at Steve like he wanted to eat him alive. He liked that. It was nice to be admired and wanted and not in pain and scared all the time. To feel like a male Cinderella. Even if it was all just hoax, for a little while he could pretend it wasn’t. That Howard really wanted him, and not only things he thought Steve could do to him.

“Immortal kiss”, his son was now whispering. “You made a deal.”

Steve had to snort at that.

“I said I will bite him, if that was what he wanted. And I did. A half a dozen times, if I recall. He seemed to want it for real. Most of people don’t like to be bitten, but he liked his pain or just bared it thinking the end result.”

His confession didn’t make the man angry. Exact opposite, actually. “Yes, I know you screwed my dad over”, he grinned. “I can’t blame you for that. But our science is more advanced now. Those samples Bruce got from your corpse, so to speak. I would like to have a dash of fresh ones and after that… If science can’t solve the riddle, it has to be magic. And if it is magic, it can do anything.”

Steve wasn’t still clear what the man wanted from him. He was their prisoner. They could do to him what they wanted anyway.

“You are still expecting us to act like Nazis”, the man mused. “Yes, you were lucky it was a research vessel of my company which found you. There are people out there who make Nazis look like choir boys, bad people, who don’t ask permissions if they find something profitable.”

“Unlike the son of Howard Stark”, he derided. “Who just have to cover what he is doing from his superiors.”

“Little minds...”

“Or maybe big minds should stop dreaming silly. Do you think you and your father are the first ones that thought in your minds? If it were possible, the world would be full of sons of Cains.”

His words made the man’s face blush and the blood bump in his veins. Somebody calling his stupid? Saying him no? Was that all it would take to make his breath catch and manhood swollen?

“I…” the man started. He was not able to say anything more before Steve kissed him.

Oh how he kissed him! The men was so pretty, and he hadn’t tried to take anything by force. He had just asked and bribed. There was no harm to give up. Steve had nothing more to lose than his pride.

He forgot the glass walls and the phone call which could watch his every move. The talking wall had told him men married other men now. It was like in the stories Elders told them about the old times. Steve could be openly with any man whose smell and taste made his blood run hot, and it had been too long. Their clothes dropped on the floor like autumn leaves. Steve licked and sucked and finally he bit, pushed himself deep into the man, and if he tasted booze and cocaine and other harmful things, it was not his place to say. It was not for him to judge, because he had been there too, scared of dying many times over, and if the man’s fear was not exactly about that final battle, but about what will happen before that, if he was scared of living and wasting his life and getting older, who he was to judge and say the man’s fear was stupid. Steve didn’t know him.

Steve didn’t know the man. Literally. He didn’t even know his first name, was about to ask for it. It would have been nice to have something to scream aloud, but then the wall started making noises of its own.

It was a face again, a telephone call with a moving picture. He recognized the negro officer who had shot him in the science lab. “Stark! You idiotic little shit! What the hell do you think you are doing!”

“Tony is still alive? Jesus, look at that hickey! Damn, I should have bet only about that, now I lost twenty bucks. Hey, Sanders! Could you make a copy of that surveillance tape? Split the profit?”

“Barton, shut up! Stark, put your fucking clothes on! Nobody wants to see your scrawny ass! Captain Rogers, are you alright?”

That was the last question Steve had expected to hear.

“He was a minute go. But then somebody cockblocked...”

“Stark! I will not repeat myself!”

The smell hit his nostrils when the door opened. A unique mix of nervous sweat, manly musk, and unwashed armpits. Steve pulled his underwear on sure he had smelled wrong, but this time he didn’t: at the door stood the guy he had killed in the lab.

What the hell was going on?


	5. Bruce

“I have to apologize”, the man said after Tony had dressed himself and left. “This was not how this was supposed to go. We don’t usually lock people up and then jump on their bones. I know how persuasive Tony can be and… Are you really alright?”

Tony, his name was Tony. Steve wondered if it was a shortening from something. Anthony or maybe Antonio. Tony looked he had some South European blood in his veins.

But that was not the point. The point should be this new guy. Steve sniffed again, but had his nose ever lied to him. This was the man from the lab, and even if he had then hid his mousy brown hair and slim shoulders inside the doctor’s garbs, he was surely the man Steve had mistaken for a Nazi torturer and killed as he tried to escape.

“Oh that”, the man said and god honest blushed. “I am Doctor Bruce Banner, and no, you didn’t kill me. The wound… yes, you ripped my throat open, but… It doesn’t matter, please forget about it. No harm done.”

So he was able to heal himself as well as Steve. Why wasn’t Stark all over him?

“Oh. It was that. For science. I thought it was just…”

Like what?

“You know”, Banner said, giving him a timid smile. “You are not exactly bad looking, and Tony is… he is like a magpie. A brilliant science bro, but as a person… You are really alright? He didn’t poke any needles in you? You didn’t see any strange equipment?”

He was about to poke something in Steve, alright, but he bet this mumbling mess of a man would die again, this time of embarrassment, if Steve mentioned his thoughts aloud.

“Good. Glad that all is well. You see, the last time somebody went crazy scientist, the Hulk happened. Not that it says anything to you, but… maybe it will. Director Fury asked me to give you this.”

It was a large carry-all, full of clothes. They had taken away what was left of his uniform and given him lots of gray sport trousers and white, short sleeved shirts, but that was not the case now. Uppermost lay a uniform top like the one he was familiar with. All those other things were there too, boots, helmet, trousers. All fine and better than ever, but Steve’s heart grew cold as he pondered what it probably meant.

This was a uniform for a war. Was that it? The USA was in the war again and he was called to do his duty?

“No! Not in that way at least… Sorry, no, no war. We thought you would feel more comfortable if you had something familiar to wear. Tony made it according the old film materials and his dad’s designs.”

Tony had made it? Call him a fool, but that made him titter inside. He could now imagine he had a gentleman caller giving him gifts.

He was so used to the barracks the civilian life sometimes escaped him. Maybe it was not acceptable to start changing his clothes in front of strange people, but in front of that shrinking violet of a guy it was entertaining. Banner stuttered and blushed again, ending his back toward Steve.

“How do you do it?”

No bootlaces, but some ingenious strap system. Banner’s question was strange. He had to see Steve was managing.

“No, not the boots, but… You.”

That didn’t make it any clearer. “Me?”

“How do you control it?” Banner mumbled like fearing somebody else was listening their conversation. “How can you control that monster inside you so effortlessly? I mean… you were… You and Tony… And your fight with Thor. You were very drunk… in spite of that you didn’t go rabid either time.”

“There is a monster inside you? This Hulk you mentioned?”

Banner nodded. “How do you do it? Is it meditation? Some other spiritual form? It sometimes looked like you were praying. Is that it? Faith? I was just wondering, could it be something you can maybe teach me.”

Poor sod. No wonder he was so messed up.

“That’s the thing, Doctor. I would be the worst teacher you could find, or maybe the best, I don’t know. I was praying, yeah, that is what we Catholics do when we are taken prisoners by the Nazi collaborators. Or what we thought were… Yes, I talk with our Lord and because he is usually occupied with more important things than my whining, I ask Holy Mother of Jesus Christ to put me in the waiting line. They teach these things in Sunday School. You don’t need me to manage that, and I am a lousy example of Christian virtues anyway. Maybe try that other thing instead.”

“Meditation. Yes, maybe I... But that really helps, doesn’t it?”

Steve sighed. “Yes, it gives one kind of peace of mind. I think that is the main purpose of religion, to give us hope. The thing is, I am not like you. There is no one inside me. This is me. All of it. There is nothing to control.”

Banner gaze searched him from head to heels as if trying to find something tangible. Something to help with his own situation. There was this half amused and half hopeless smile on his lips when he asked if Steve was now willing to meet the team.

“Just like that?”

Banner shrugged his shoulders. “Yes. You are Captain America. The hero of the nation.”

Now they remembered it? What was this team then? If there was no war what did it do?

“You can think us like a police force. A superpowered one. There are lots of superpowered criminals, you see, and alien invasions and mad scientist and would-be conquers of the world.”

“Like Hydra?”

“Yes, exactly.”

The door opened. Banner entered the corridor and Steve went after him, and just like that, he was out of his cell first time what had to be weeks.

“Eleven days, if we are exact. Our boss, Director Fury. You made an impression on him.”

A bad one, Banner meant. In spite of that, no armed guards were following the weedy doctor and Steve. Nor there was any other person in sight. They had emptied the route to avoid any problems.

“We are in the SHIELD quarantine faculty in Texas. The others are waiting for us in the meeting room.”

The others. Steve wondered the taste which still lingered on his tongue. Would Tony be there too?

“Tony… uh, no. We have sometimes common science projects, he and I, but for the SHIELD he is only a part-time civilian consultant. Not Director Fury’s favorite, I am afraid. And now, after his little stunt... No, Tony will not be here for a long time.”

Perhaps Steve should have been pleased people thought he was some rose-cheeked virgin who still had virtue to ravish. He entered the room after Banner. They were all there. The negro officer who had emptied his gun into Steve’s chest. The red-headed spy. The blond brawler. And now the doctor who claimed he had a monster inside him.

“Wow! And I mean... wow! Clint Barton, Captain. Sir. Code name Hawkeye. I was on a mission abroad, when… What I mean... wow! No wonder Stark couldn’t keep his fingers off of you.”

Were handshakes in the future supposed to last that long?

“Barton, you can shut up now”, Fury was saying. “Captain Rogers.”

Steve separated himself from Barton and turned toward his new commanding officer. “Sir.”

“Wow, he even stands in attention so heroically.”

Fury seemed like he was only a few seconds from the moment he would blow a gasket. “Barton, one more and you are out of this meeting”, he barked. “At ease, Captain Rogers. And welcome. I assume you know everyone.”

“No he doesn’t! How about Iron Man?”

“Barton...”

There was indeed one figure Steve hadn’t met before. He was wholly covered in red and golden metal armor and seemed not to be interested in taking the initiative. More like Doctor Banner then, a shy fellow.

“Good afternoon, sir”, Steve greeted, offering his hand to shake. “Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you.”

There was a brief surprised silence and then Barton started laughing. And not only him, also Banner let out a brief giggle which was soon sunken under Thor’s booming jolliness.

“Brother Monster, I have made that same mistake myself!”

“Iron Man is a battle bot”, Fury explained. His lips were in their usual grim line, but his only eye shined with a light mirth. “It means it is a robot… an automaton. Its programming is extremely well adjusted what comes to battle tactics, and it is capable of independent decision making, but Stark hasn’t coded into it any social niceties. Its handshake would crush even your fingers.”

Steve let his hand drop. When he had stepped in front of the metal man, he had almost… Steve sniffed and there it was again, a light wisp of that familiar smell, now mixed with the smell of metal and something hot and unnatural. Repulsors, he learned later. If Stark had made the thing and maintained it like a mechanic did to a car, it was only natural the machine smelled of him.

“Please sit down, Captain. I see that Doctor Banner got you your new gear. How does that feel?”

“It is much more comfortable than my old one. Thank you, sir. Please deliver my thanks to Mr Stark also.”

A little stinger, perhaps. It had been Steve’s initiative. He had started the kiss and ripping off his clothes like a horny tart. There was no reason for them to badmouth Tony all the time. That was Steve’s plan, but it backfired spectacularly.

“Yeah, it is nice that Stark is good for something at least”, Barton barked out a laugh. “You can’t know, but the guy is like some reverse Frankenstein. Rotten doctor and his noble monster.”

Barton tapped his knuckles on the metal man to emphasize his words. “This fellow has saved our bacon in the field more times I can count. What good has its creator ever done, but to make an ass of himself in public.”

“That is right”, Banner mumbled. “I have tried to talk with Tony, but it is what it is. The scandal media is sniffing his every step, always finding the worse.”

“It is not that Stark hadn’t give them lots of material during the years. There had to be at least half a dozen leaked sex tapes of that guy, and believe me Cap, all of them are not vanilla. No wonder he got exited. No disrespect, but those fangs of yours might have given him ideas.”

Now their commanding officer chose not to shut up Barton? Or was this usual in the future? To make small talk about your sexual habits? Maybe it was just that Fury enjoyed to listen how his team bashed Tony Stark.

“You were the one who wanted to make a blue movie out of me”, Steve reminded.

Barton looked scandalized. “Oh, it was a joke! I would never… but you have to watch out with Stark. What his former lovers have told about him...”

That guy was seriously starting to get on his nerves. “Tilted lovers”, Steve scuffed. “That is your reliable source? There is always propaganda and rumors.”

“Yeah, that is sensible, Cap”, Barton changed his tone. “There is no trusting the internet or those money grabbing bimbos and himbos Stark attracts like honey is sweet for flies. We are not exactly depended on those. Our Nat was his secretary for a while.”

Only a light squinting of her eyes told Steve the red-headed spy was not pleased to be dragged to the conversation. “I was”, she admitted. “It was to examine if there was something else going on behind his public face. Director Fury wanted me to estimate if he could work as a part of the team. I was with him almost three months. He didn’t pass.”

“Yes, the man is hopeless”, Barton huffed. “We have well established that. If you wanna date or have some funny times Nat can vet for you half a dozen more suitable candidates just like that.”

“Is that so. I am good, but thank you, Natalia.”

Romanoff nodded and gave him a tight-lipped smile.

“Now than you all had stretched your gossip muscles, we should continue”, Fury stated. “As Barton said, the media can be problematic.”

There was talk about how the team operated. Steve was showed films about their battles. It was really confusing. Those people… most of them looked at least as enhanced as Steve, and he wondered could there be others like him, hiding under their masks while participating in this costume play.

“Detainment with a minimum damage for the public safety, that is our goal. The Avengers Initiative is a wholesome face of superpowered community and enjoys wide public trust. It has taken us years of work and diligent cultivation of public opinion to get this far.”

After those ominous words, the security tape from the lab was showed. Steve’s awaking was followed by lot’s of screaming and blood, and yeah, Banner had not lied. He had died and gotten better.

The camera changed. Steve was standing on the overhang in front of the observation window, only vaguely realizing what he was doing, his only thought to sink his teeth into the men behind the glass. Seeing Tony’s face so pale and scared made something in his gut squeeze painfully. In the middle of pink mist, alarms blaring, and his uniform in tatters, Steve was like an evil spirit raised from the grave, ready to gorge himself with the flesh of the living.

The film ended. Steve felt he should explain himself.

“That played well with the Krauts, sir.”

“I am sure it did.”

He had had a shield and a gun, but only two hands. Why not to make use of his other assets too?

“We realize that, Captain Rogers, but during peacetime, ripping people’s, even bad people’s throats open in front of the camera phones is not an option. If that is your thing, we can arrange some wet work activities with our black op team. They are able to find you assignments where messy is better.”

No ripping. Got it.

“Good. Now when we are all on the same page, we have to start deciding how to introduce your particularities to the media. Our PR department has some ideas, and I can discuss about them with you later. Then there is a practical question where you should live. The SHIELD personnel without residence are naturally welcomed to live in the base, but if we think your inclusion into the modern times, it would be better if you lived elsewhere. Maybe in Stark Tower with the rest of the team?”

The others were nodding, and Steve felt maybe a faint relief. Anything was better than the glass jar with its talking, spying walls. But wait a minute? In Stark Tower? Like with Tony?

“Yes, guess what, he is our landlord”, Barton piped up. “And the maker of our awesome weapons. That is why we badmouth him only behind his back.”

There it was again. A burst of hormones, musk, and sweat which only a stressed out human male could produce.

Steve glimpsed at the door. Tony hadn’t come in while he was occupied with the conversation. Keeping his movements in minimum, he turned his head there and here trying to find the origin of the smell. It took a few minutes, but then he detached a single muted heartbeat from inside the automaton.

_Is_ _this_ _a_ _joke_ , Steve wondered. He didn’t catch the sound the second time, but the smell of sweat with its familiar mingle of booze and chemicals lingered in the air for a long time. Was the joke on him, the team, or Tony himself, he couldn’t decide.


	6. Steve

The Stark Tower was swell. More than swell. Oh if ma saw him now, in his own bathroom, in a huge bath with all these pretty, good-smelling things. She would think he had turned into a little lord.

There was a kitchen and its cool cabinets, always full of good food. Without his metabolism and that damn gorgeous gym Steve would have been putting on more than a few pounds.

So much so different people. So funny clothes, hairs, make-ups. It was like being in a cabaret show just when he jogged down the streets on ordinary Wednesday afternoon.

All the books he had ever wanted to read lay hidden inside that tablet thing. He had first laughed aloud when Natalia explained it was a computer. He had thought she was joking. Steve had seen a computer in Howard’s workshop. Howard’s computer had been like a room sized metal box full of meters and flashing lights, nothing like this portable library in his hands. And guess what, a telephone was nowadays a computer too. Oh how he hated those tiny letters which were so difficult to write. What was he, a secretary, Steve grumbled, but inside him was giddy with excitement. If there had just been somebody to share these wonders with.

Bonding with the others didn’t went so smoothly. He got Fury’s idea, put men into the barrack to sleep, eat, shit together, and you get yourself a natural born team.

Maybe it was Steve. He was the problem. He had never been the most social person in the world, and this bunch. Their introductions hadn’t exactly gone smoothly, Steve had literally killed one of them. He didn’t like Barton’s attitude and couldn’t trust Romanoff. Banner wasn’t much of a conversationalist and Thor was that too much.

It seemed the only smart one among them was Ralph, as Steve had named the piglet Fury gave him to eat. Ralph learned to use the piggy toilet they made for him and followed Barton around, waiting the tidbits he carried in his pockets. That little traitor.

“You know it is not a potbellied pig, but a real thing”, Natasha reminded them. “An adult hog will weigh eight hundred pounds.”

Steve saw no problem in that. When Ralph passed a proper weight limit, they would eat him. But for that proposition Clint looked he was about to feint, and Bruce didn’t seem happy either. Steve learned new things every day, and that day’s lesson was people in the future ate meat, but were squeamish when they started to think where it came from.

“Nobody will touch my Ralphie”, Barton roared and that was that. They would cross that bridge when the time come, and it wasn’t like Tony hadn’t room in his tower. They was enough space for a whole pig farm if they wanted to.

Speaking of Tony. He should have been around. Tony lived just a few stories away from them, but somehow missed their meals and those gathering the others called the movie nights.

“Stark doesn’t eat this slop”, Barton could say and smirk at Banner whose kitchen turn it had been. “He is probably stuffing his face in some Michelin star place right now. Or stuffing his face with desert, you know.”

Yes, Steve knew. It was impossible to get anything out of Barton without a childish innuendo. So he asked if Banner could somehow persuade Tony to come to watch a movie with them.

“Uh… yes, I saw Tony in the lab, but I don’t know if he is interested. He hates old clicks.”

No screwball comedies then. “He likes coffee”, Natalia mused after listening their conversation. “Yes, that and a sandwich could do him some good. Let’s go and see him. I have to ask him to date my bracelets anyway.”

They rode the elevator to the basement floor. Tony’s workshop was there. Steve expected to hear some noise, like machines, and noise he heard. He wasn’t sure if Natalia was joking with him when she called it music.

“Tony! Take a break.”

The noise stopped. Tony was behind a workbench, blinking at them with a puzzled look on his face.

“Oh Tony, when was the last time you ate something? Slept? Bruce said you are binge inventing again.”

“I… well, I needed this new gel for my… What are you doing here?”

The question was for both of them but Tony’s eyes were now on Steve. His whole demeanor was like a maiden’s who was surprised naked in the lake. Perhaps Steve had been staring. There was no trace of suave gentleman in a fine suit. Tony was wearing a ratty T-shirt and sweats. His hair was all over the place and dark skin circled his eyes.

When Steve noticed what was on the workbench, his eyes released poor Tony as he took involuntary step forward. It was Iron Man. Or its arm.

“Just giving a tour for a new guy”, Natalia was saying. “You can continue from this. He learned to use his tablet and his phone quickly. I gave him basics, you have maybe something to add to that too.”

That seemed to woke Tony up whatever stupor he was in.

“You can use… you?”

“Phone? Yes, writing is difficult though. Maybe people nowadays have smaller fingers”, Steve wondered, dropping his gaze to his massive paws which were still holding the cup. He pushed it to Tony’s hands. “Natalia taught me to use coffee machine too.”

“You made coffee. Thor has already broken two of those. And three toasters.”

“I didn’t break anything. So, this is Iron Man?”

Steve had heard a faint hissing sound as the door closed behind Natalia. He could now focus fully on Tony. There was that panicky smell again and a heartbeat he had heard from inside the robot which now stood without its arms besides the wall. Steve peaked in through the arm hole. “I thought a robot should be full of… I don’t know… cogwheels?”

Tony was skillful like his father. He made miracles from metal and wires and other things Steve didn’t recognize. Why didn’t he want anybody to know that he was not only behind but also inside of those wonders?

His musing were interrupted when Tony stepped in front of him. The older man was much shorter than him, the top of his head came a little over his shoulders, but his stormy visage and taunt back added to him some extra high.

“Cut the crap, Rogers.”

Steve submitted, knowing what they both had been thinking. “I just don’t understand why you are pretending it is not you but some machine. All those films...”

“Oh, but I realize”, Tony said gritting his teeth. “I realized immediately and perfectly well why you hadn’t go running and telling them.”

“Why is that?”

Tony snorted. “Should have known my dick is a fall of me. It was that miracle nose of yours, wasn’t it, and I like an idiot giving you a close sniff of my bodily odors. I saw how you stared at me in the meeting, dying to tell them and pester that fucking Barton in his own game. Fuck you! And your coffee!”

“It is still hot. I wouldn’t recommend that action.”

It was not a time for a witty banter from the screwball comedies. Tony’s face flushed with anger. For a while Steve wondered was the older man going to have a heart attack.

“Yes… No!” Tony was screaming. “Should throw this on your smug face and…”

Tony didn’t throw anything, but took several gulps from his mug. The coffee calmed him down. Or at least he fell silent. Somehow, it wasn’t much better.

“I am missing something”, Steve mused. “I though they think Iron Man is a hero.”

“Yes, they do.”

“So why not to tell them?” Steve would really like to see a look on Barton’s face when he realized how he had been badmouthing the man who had saved his hide, Steve didn’t know how many times. He hadn’t had time to watch all those videos from his tablet, but Barton seemed to have a habit to fall off the roofs.

There was that stressed out smell again. A heart beating too fast. “Tell them what”, Tony asked, his voice hoarse. “That their beloved robot teammate is a pitiful old drunkard? That would go well, what do you think. They threw a party for it, for fuck’s sake. I stood besides a wall like a fucking statue, some stupid paper hat on my head, looking at how they blew my candles and ate my cake and it was still the best birthday of my life.”

For a moment Steve was sure Tony would start to cry, but then his eyes got that hard, emotionless gleam again. He huffed a small laugh and shook his head like sorting his thoughts to their final order.

“Alright, let’s get this done. How much do you want?”

“Tony.”

“Don’t you dare”, Tony hissed. “Come on. Nobody wants anything from me except money or joyride. Is that it? You want to finish our little session?”

Tony started to pull off his shirt. His hands shook badly, maybe it was tumult of his mind or pure tiredness of his body, but Steve decided the situation had been going on long enough.

“Where is the bed?”

“What? My workshop couch is not fancy enough for you?”

Steve had been in a war, seen guys acting this erratic when they were stressed out and bone deep tired. He didn’t comment and Tony pulled his shirt back down, took a few staggering step towards metal door, which had been hidden behind shelves full of storage boxes. It was a private elevator. They rode in silence until they came to the right floor. Steve had not been there before, and it could be his other teammates had not been invited either. The rooms were big but scantily furnished, sporting no other colors than whites, grays, and brows. Steve’s mother would have been scandalized. For her the place would not have been a home at all, looking like that, but Steve had already seen stranger things, maybe it was how rich people lived nowadays, or Tony just didn’t care. His bedroom consisted of a walk-in closet, a nightstand, a big bed and not much anything else.

“Go to the shower, Tony. You will feel better afterwards. You haven’t done that for a few days, have you?”

Tony went but not until he had given Steve a stink eye. Steve prepared the bed, wondering the soft, pristine white sheets, which were cool to his touch. Tony had washed himself and was still deliciously humid, his towel dry hair spiked. He was also totally naked and Steve felt a short jerk inside his pants.

“You should buy a cat to pet”, Tony mumbled coming besides the bed. “Or are you practicing your soft touch? Don’t bother. As Barton stated, I can take it rough.”

“I haven’t seen those blue movies, Tony. And I won’t. That is not fair.”

Tony snorted. He was lying down on the bed now, not seducing but like a sneering sacrificial lamb. “How magnanimous of you. Well, aren’t you coming?”

Steve would have wanted to. Oh how he wanted, there was no concealing his hard-on in his tight sport pants. “You should sleep.”

“You condescending bastard!” A pillow was thrown on his head and then Tony was in his lap. His lips landed on his face and a firm grip locked around his neck and head. He kissed Steve’s cheek and mouth, dragged his lips over his jaw. His tongue stabbed the faint gap between his lips, demanding the entrance. Steve’s breathing accelerated. He wanted nothing more than open up for Tony, but he concentrated on exhaling and inhaling through his nose.

“I see.”

What did Tony see? Steve didn’t think he saw much except his own pain. “Please, Tony. Go to sleep. I am not rejecting you. I want to be a gentleman. At least once in my life. Please, indulge me.”

Tony grumbled, but finally he went to his nightstand and took some pills. He swallowed them dry and scrambled to the bed.

Steve didn’t know should he go or stay. He didn’t like the way Tony passed out right away, because it couldn’t be natural. Hopefully, the pills were just harmless sleeping aids like barbiturates. Steve listened to Tony’s breathing. Even if Tony seemed to be alright, Steve knew himself: it would be useless to go to his bed. He couldn’t get any sleep when he worried about Tony.

Steve didn’t need much rest anyway. He could go almost a week without any sleep at all, but he liked the weightless feeling of unconsciousness. When he didn’t have bad dreams.

It had been only an hour when Tony started whimpering and trashing in his bed. A measly hour. No wonder Tony didn’t want to sleep. Why bother, when you didn’t rest anyway?

“No… don’t… please...”

How Steve hated those words! He had heard them too often from his own lips too. Tony’s hands were curled to protect his chest. The duvet was down on his hips and Steve saw glimpses of big, ugly scars like somebody had tried to rip Tony’s heart out.

Steve called his name but Tony didn’t react. He didn’t know what else to do, so he climbed into the bed besides Tony, wrapped him into his duvet and his arms, whispering nonsense into his neck hair until Tony calmed down. He didn’t dare to move away in case the nightmares started again. Some time later Tony turned to face him and his breath on Steve’s cheek, his warm body in Steve’s embrace made him painfully hard again. But this wasn’t about sex. That was about what Tony needed right now, so Steve bit his lip and suffered and wasn’t it the sweetest suffering of them all.

Steve didn’t leave Tony alone but for toilet breaks. Peeing with an erection wasn’t anything fun, so cold water it was, first for little Steve and then into his stomach. His insides still rumbled, not satisfied with liquid dinners he enjoyed from the tab. He was starting to feel nauseated and his gums inched as his mind raised pictures from the full cool cabinet, which was near but still two stores away.

Steve cursed himself. During his time in the SHIELD compound and the Stark Tower he was used to eat so much and so regularly he didn’t have his endurance anymore.

A knock on the door made him froze. He had been just adjusting Tony’s pillow, but his volatile thoughts made his face blush with shame. Tony lying there, tanned and warm, was looking mighty fine in more than one way. Really, did Steve need to be this close to the man? Tony’s nightmares had ceased, and Steve didn’t want him to have new ones. He had seen his eyes in the bathroom mirror and they were tinted red and black again. His mouth made too much saliva, and he had to keep swallowing it down unless he wanted to drool like a mutt. The worst were of course his fangs which were halfway out and impossible to conceal if he didn’t push his lips tightly shut. What if Tony woke up and saw him and freaked out? But when he went to the door, there wasn’t anybody; only a tray full of sandwiches and his favorite yogurt, fruits and those things they called energy bars.

Steve stuffed two bars into his mouth at the same time and wolfed down one of the sandwiches before he even lift the tray and brought it to the room. The sandwiches were similar to that one Natalia had prepared to Tony, making easy to guess who his guardian angel was. He took a hefty bites and felt how his more predatory teeth pulled back inside his gums. His eyes would take longer to look human again. The time he didn’t have. The knock had been subdued, but still loud enough to wake up Tony, who sat on the bed, blinking at Steve.

“Steve… I think I fell asleep. How long was I out?”

Steve hadn’t looked at his new phone. Now he checked the time. Was it really fourteen hours ago when he had bullied Tony to leave his workshop?

He kept eating while Tony was in the shower. The billionaire genius hadn’t said anything more before vanishing through the bathroom door. Now he stood there again, this time a towel around his hips. Steve forgot to move his jaw when his eyes followed Tony to his walk-in closet. Steve was eating apple, was that biblical or what. His nose could distinguish Tony’s natural musk under a fresh, woodsy smell he had put on. So swell. His hearing picked up how clothes slide over Tony’s skin, covering his body with their layers.

Not seeing Tony made Steve like a blind man in a strip tease show. It was utterly exiting and Steve was hard again, his fangs in their full length pushing against his lower lip. Tony emerged back to the room. His feet were bare, but he was in a suit and a dress shirt, which was buttoned enough to cover his scarred chest but showing his clavicle and his strong, long neck.

Steve finished the apple and wiped his fingers on his T-shirt.

“A dirty boy”, Tony admonished him. The corner of his mouth quivered as if he was in a verge of laughing.

“It was only water. I always wash my hands before eating.”

“Is that so”, Tony said and raised his eyebrow. “I have a board meeting and shitload of work I should have been doing instead of lazing in my bed.”

“I see. Have a nice meeting then.”

Steve started peeling an orange. He had turned sideways to Tony, counting in his mind. His bulge was clearly in sight as he put a slice of the fruit into his mouth and popped it with his left fang. The juice trickled down his chin. He wiped it away, licking his fingers clean. What else would his tongue be licking, Tony could ponder about that. The man had lost all the pretense of a cool indifference and stared at him like hypnotized.

“You will be late, Tony.” Steve popped a new slice and Tony’s breath hitched. “You look hungry though. Missed your breakfast. Want some?”

Oh how Steve was being cocky! He slid his hand slowly down over his stomach, turning his sensible words into a pure filth. Tony god honest whimpered. His neck was blushed and he moistened his lips. Howard had been a handsome fella in a slick, big city way Steve could appreciate, but his son was something else. If there were male sirens, Tony was a descent of those. He didn’t want nothing more than to mess Tony’s combed hair again and suck that delicious looking skin until his pulse points throbbed beneath his probing tongue. But Fury had decided Steve was going to be the leader of the Avengers. A proper leader couldn’t do decisions only with his dick.

“We have to talk.”

Tony shivered like coming out from the cold. “Figures”, he huffed. “Alright. Out with it.”

Now was Steve’s turn to snort. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Tony. You think I am able to keep up any sensible conversation you looking and smelling like that? I was just thinking to give you heads up. This is not going to change that.” Steve put one of his massive paws on Tony’s shoulder. His thumb started making a teasing circle over his collarbone. “For a moment there you looked like you wanted something sweet.”

Tony moaned. Steve had lost the orange, letting his hands continue their journey. Tony was wearing no undershirt. Steve felt his nipples tense until they were two deliciously hard pebbles. He mouthed them through Tony’s shirt while pushing his jacket down along his arms.

“Don’t take the shirt.”

Steve’s fingers halted on the buttons. “I have seen your battle scars, Tony. I don’t resent them. But if leaving the shirt on makes you comfortable so be it.”

As a man of his word, Steve dropped his fingers on Tony’s waist and pulled his fly open.

“Oh God”, Tony moaned, closing his eyes. He was going commando. Steve let his hands roam over Tony’s hips and ass, which he remembered to be so nice and firm. “Oh yes”, Tony wailed, as Steve pushed his trousers down to his thighs, sliding onto his knees in front of Tony and nuzzling his groin with his nose and cheeks. Oh that smell and warmth! It was driving Steve wild. Taking a good grip of Tony’s ass, he licked the side of his member from top to root. Tony trembled when Steve’s breath caressed the wet stripe. Satisfied with the response, Steve took turns to lick Tony’s dick and balls and nibble his inner thighs with his teeth. His fangs pushed, but didn’t break the skin as Steve sucked dark dots on that smooth skin, teasing them both by pulling blood closer the surface.

“You like this, Tony? How about we turn you around? Can you put yourself on your hands and knees on the bed?”

Tony kicked the trousers off and did as Steve had asked. Steve was on his knees still, worshiping the smooth curve of his lover’s ass and heavy balls which were strangely hairless. Steve hadn’t known anybody else than those ladies of the night who shaved themselves down there. It was probably just a practice of this modern time, Tony hadn’t done it especially for him, but the thought of it managed to provoke Steve despite of the purpose. Steve growled and pushed his tongue inside Tony’s hole, teasing his rim and alternating sucking and pushing until Tony was only a trembling, breathless mess, who could hardly keep himself upright.

“Grease?”

“Lube… in the nightstand. Please, Steve.”

Yes, please Steve. But what did Tony want?

“Your dick… your teeth in me… Steve, please. Hurry!”

Steve liked a guy who knew his own mind. That lube thing let out a faint apple smell. It felt cold and slippery as Steve rubbed it between his fingers. A coarse gun grease or vaseline would have been out of place here in Tony’s fine bed.

Tony was nice and loose after his tongue. Steve was still planning to take it slow, but Tony was as patient as always, pushing into his fingers and moaning like a two bit whore, except for Tony that wasn’t an act. No, Tony was not voicing his pleasure to get rid of Steve as soon as possible. His chest and face were flushed and he shivered every time Steve scissored his thick fingers inside his hole.

Steve was about to come here and there just watching the show the older man put on. He pressed rest of the lube on his palm and lavished it over his dick and Tony’s crease.

“If you are having second thoughts, Tony, now would be a good moment to mention about it”, Steve whispered in strangled tones. “When I’m balls deep inside your sweet tight ass, sucking you, I will become a bit grumpy for a while if I have to stop straight away.”

Tony’s brief giggle had some desperation on it. “Right, Steve! Could… could you please carry on… soon like. Pretty please, Steve. How about… would you do this face to face?”

Puppy dog eyes shouldn’t be sexy when one was having sex. Somehow Tony pulled it off. Tony’s smell, his taste and those noises he made were driving Steve wild. His heart was beating like a drum, and if Tony had that moment asked anything, anything at all, Steve would have done it. And there was no risk to hurt Tony, was there? Barton didn’t shut up about those blue movies Tony had made of himself and his partners, so it wasn’t like Tony was a rookie in the bed games.

He pushed Tony on his back on the mattress, which made Tony’s legs rise up to his shoulders like he was really an automation he played to be. No rookie, indeed. Steve teased him with a shallow pushes, which made those nerves just behind the rim shot out a constant pleasing sensations. No fireworks, not yet, maybe never, because all guys weren’t able to feel it like that, deep inside. Steve should know. He was one of those unlucky numb ones, but if he thought about it rationally, perhaps three layered pleasure would have been too much to handle even for son of Cain. He had his dick and his teeth, and those sensations which went through him when he penetrated the skin with his fangs and sucked trembling, sweating being under his mouth, he wouldn’t change even to the best ones of those other fireworks.

Tony knew exactly what he was doing, moving the place of his legs, changing the angle Steve’s dick drilled into him until his back arched and mouth opened, wanting to moan, to scream, maybe babble some nonsense, but he wasn’t fast enough: Steve filled him with his tongue. Licking and sucking Tony’s mouth, Steve found a steady rhythm for his hips, making the bed sway under their bodies and adding sensation until it was all too much to bear. Steve hissed and separated from Tony’s lips, attacking his neck, nuzzling and sucking until Tony grabbed the back of his head and pulled his mouth tight onto his skin. Steve got the hint and bit, still feeling the lingering fear Tony would change his mind. A pure ecstasy filled his senses, even if part of him still tried to observe the signs telling him Tony wanted him to stop and was trying to push him away. But if something, Tony grabbed his hair harder, scratching his back with the nails of his free hand. Steve sucked and pushed while Tony trashed and moaned under him.

The time stood still or perhaps it run too fast. Steve was sure he would pass out of pleasure from the double feelings of his gums and dick, and he was relieved when a smell and noises of Tony’s orgasm finally pushed him from the edge.

For long minutes, they lay there like beached, misshaped whales. The smells of musk, cum, blood, and sweat lingered heady in the air, making Steve’s mind spin. He collected Tony into his arms and licked first his neck, then his chest and abdomen which were covered with white stripes of Tony’s semen.

“You tickle.”

He had pulled out of Tony, feeling how the restlessness beat under Tony’s skin. His eyes wandered from Steve to the closet and back. He would need a new shower and new clothes, but Steve knew Tony didn’t think of those things. He had been drinking in the closed while he dressed himself, and now when his Steve-shaped distraction was over, that was the place Tony wanted to be, with a thing which kept Tony going instead of breakfast or afternoon shag.

“Tony, I hope you realize this can’t go on.”

There had been an incident last week. Fury said it was something called programming error, but Steve knew better, it had been Tony in his cups. “I have been watching the recordings of our team in action. Last week you almost killed that little girl, Tony. And I have seen dead little girls to last me a lifetime.”

Tony was now tense like a plank in his arms, denial drawn into the every line of his being. “You can’t make that decision. You can’t let me go. The team needs Iron Man.”

Steve sighed. “I am not sacking you, Tony. Not now, anyway. You practice with us as usual, but as long as you continue drinking, you are not taking part in the missions.”

Tony shot up, his pretty face turning into an ugly grimace. His whole body was shaking with hardly contained anger. “What the hell you know! You haven’t even been there yet. You haven’t… You don’t know...”

He didn’t know? Steve who had fought four years in the biggest war seen by mankind? He who had risked the existence of his very race to make the horror and slaughter stop faster? The plan of the Elders had been a clever one. Elder Erskine was supposed to invent a so called super soldier serum, which would then “change” the young ones of their clan to superpowered champions of the nation. And then, maybe then they would be again like their ancestors had been under the rule of the great Alexander the Conqueror. They would be respected for their skills and power, not feared and persecuted like some fairy tale monsters lurking in the darkness.

But a Nazi spy had skilled Erskine before he was able to complete their plan. Steve had been the first one, a pretty-faced specimen to prove the serum’s worth to politicians and Army generals, and then he was all alone. What he had seen this far, or rather not seen, told him his people were still hiding if they had not been found out and discreetly murdered by the government during his long sleep. Just like the Nazis had tried to do to the children of Abraham.

“Please, please, I don’t have anything else.”

Oh Tony. So smart and so stupid at the same time! He took that flailing arm and gave a kiss to Tony’s already sweaty palm before pushing the hand against his cheek.

“You have them, your team. Now you got me too. You can have me. My teeth, my dick, any hole you want. Any time the graving hits you can come to me. I will make you forget those things which leave you scared and tempt you to crawl into the bottle. For a little while at last. Maybe later you can start forgetting on your own.”

“Afghanistan.” Tony pronounced the word like a curse. It was obvious something horrible had happened to him in that place. “I don’t know, Steve. Maybe…”

“Then… I would appreciate if you can give me something your father didn’t want to give.”

“What is that?”

“Home.”

Tony hesitated. Steve observed how feelings changed behind his restless eyes. Lust and hope, fear and thirst to drink, to made himself fall back into a soft world of liquid oblivion.

Steve didn’t try to keep him on the bed. He had said his piece and now was Tony’s turn to make a decision. His feet were already turning towards the closet which hid his stash of booze. Steve heart sank. But no, he hadn’t thought it would really be that easy.

Tony came back from the closet still dressed only in his shirt. The fresh smell of alcohol lingered around him when he slumped on the bed next to Steve. He turned and hid his face on the pillow, which muffled his words. “I know that you… You think like a soldier, you make a plan and then you execute the plan and that’s it. You instead of booze and coke, that is a… Oh God, it kills me to say this but it will not be enough. I have been drinking since I am teenager. I can’t just quit, my body will go into shock and I will die. I have to check into rehab and take shitload of meds and go to the therapy, and it will take time. Weeks… maybe months. And years and years after that without… Are you really selling your ass out just to dry a little old me?”

Steve nipped that other ass to drive his point home. Tony whimpered, turning to look Steve over his shoulder. He stared at him for a long seconds as if trying to find falsehood from his words. Then Tony reached to his nightstand and grabbed his phone.

“Hi Pepper! Yes, I know I am late from the meeting. You guessed right, I am in my bed. Yes, with Steve, but listen... Pepper, stop screaming at me! Steve and I talked and… Look, I know you have a list of suitable rehab places if I suddenly come to my senses, and… Yes, Pepper. I am alcoholic. Just like my dear old dad, but unlike him, I think I have had enough now. No, I can’t make any promises, but I want to at least try. Yes, long overdue. Pepper, please don’t… Oh God, now you started crying! Pepper, I am so sorry. I’ll call you back later. Please, buy yourself something super expensive with a company card. Bye!”

Tony let the phone slump between them on the mattress as he hid his face with his arm. “I think I broke my Assistant Director.”

Steve didn’t think so. He had already met Virginia Potts, and she had radiated strength and calm. She was a woman who knew how to stand in the eye of the storm. She had been a true friend to Tony, just like Steve’s Peggy had been during the wartime.

“And… Steve? Do I have to tell the team about Iron Man?”

Keeping secrets from the people close to you would be tiring after a while. But that was another thing Steve couldn’t hurry. Tony would reveal himself only when he was ready.

“Home”, Tony mumbled. “That was awfully big word you used, Steve.”

That was him. Either a full throttle or no movement at all. He took Tony’s hand and kissed carefully those strong and restless fingers.

“I am a big guy. I will take lots of space. If you let me, I will take all the space.”

The End

Thanks for reading/leaving kudos & awesome comments!

NEXT ON DECK: Peter Stark is nineteen and in need of a boyfriend who will not end up dead in the hands of his enemies. Enter Spiderpool! (With Irondad, Superhusbands, and the usual Avengers mayhem.) https://archiveofourown.org/works/25614553


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